Past Ghosts
by DarkDilligence
Summary: When Detective Chester Lake stumbles upon Stabler and a reporter in what seems to be an argument, he's a bit apprehensive. However, when he agrees to an interview with Sara Greene, little does he know what exactly he's getting into. [M]
1. Meet and Greet

"Detective Stabler! What a pleasure!" said the brunette, broad smile playing across her lips in what could be called a shit-eating grin. She stood, one hand resting on a cocked him, the other clutching a small gray piece of technology. A tape recorder.

"Sara," replied the detective tersely, broad arms coming to rest across his chest. As was his fashion, Stabler didn't bother hiding his animosity for the woman before him. The woman pouted in mock hurt for a moment, before planting herself on the edge of his desk, one leg crossing over the other. She was obviously stepping over some sort of boundary, sitting atop the man's desk, but if she cared she sure as hell wasn't going to show it. "Now, don't be like that, Detective. You'd think I killed someone…" she stated, one finger tapping her chin idly.

"Did you?"

"Ah. The man's funny, ladies and gentleman. Give him a gold star."

Stabler's frown seemed to deepen, if it was ever possible, and he leaned back in his swivel-chair. "What do you want?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he took in the woman. "I'm a good boy. I've got clean hands. What have I done to deserve the New York Post's finest?"

The reporter raised a brow, mimicking Stabler's stance by crossing her own arms. "Don't flatter yourself, man. It's not all about you." Blue eyes lifted from the detective and scanned the room, searching. The place was quiet, if it was at all possible. It was seven according to the digital clock's luminescent face that sat upon Stabler's desk, and it seemed that many of the officers in the precinct had gone home. Whatever Sara had been looking for, however, she didn't seem to find it, and her eyes ended up on Stabler's face again. "I'm not…"

"Here for me. Right. Then what…"

"Do I want?" she asked, a grin coming to her face again. "You're new guy. Er… what's his name…" the woman paused, hand diving into her leather side bag, papers shuffling.

"Lake?"

Sara snapped her fingers, looking up. "Right! Chester Lake? Yeah."

"Someone called?"

Both Stabler and Sara's head swiveled around, the large frame of SVUs newest coming into view. In one hand was a large coffee cup, Starbucks, and in the other a newspaper which was hastily discarded on the man's desk as he made his way over to the two. Stabler frowned, lifting one hand in the woman's direction. "Detective Lake, Sara Greene. Sara, Chester." He looked upward at Lake. "Sara is a reporter for the Post."

Lake's face remained fairly indifferent, though brows might have canted upwards slightly. "Is that so…" came a slow response.

Sara, having found what she had come for, hopped up from her desk, smile plastered across her face. One hand, the one without the recorder, was shoved forward in salutation. "Pleasure to meet you, Detective." Lake took the hand and gave it a brisk shake, looking to Detective Stabler. It was obvious by his questioning look that he was beginning to grow a bit disconcerted.

"Er, you, too. What can I do for you?"

"You can talk. I think Manhattan deserves to know their new detective, what with-"

"Sara." It was Stabler. Standing, he grabbed the coat off of his desk and turned towards the woman. She paused, high-wattage smile faltering ever so slightly. "Don't make an ass out of yourself," he said finally, giving her a frown before nodding at Lake, donning his jacket, and exiting. Lake frowned now, looking from the door to Sara, then back again.

"Am I missing something?"

"Ah, the man's a walking time bomb. I'm sure you've noticed."

Lake paused. "Well, I don't-"

Sara smiled, catching him. "You hesitated."

"That doesn't mean-"

"What does it mean?" she asked, giving the recorder a click and holding it up to the man. An enticing nod of the head was given. "Come on. I want to help, not hurt. In a way, I'm kind of like you."

Lake was obviously fighting some sort of mental battle. After a moment, however, he sighed… the woman didn't seem all that bad. Hell, she was kind of cute. Still, though, Stabler didn't like her, and although the man could be a prick sometimes…. well, he was often right. Something was off. He lifted his cardboard cup. "I'm out of java. You can tag along if you want," he said finally, despite his previous thoughts.

Clicking off her recorder, she grinned. "Peachy."


	2. Some Aprehension

The Starbucks was just as empty as the precinct, considering most don't partake in caffeinated drinks later in the evening. However, Chester Lake was somewhat of an insomniac and coffee was somewhat of a necessity. Surprisingly enough, when Chester ordered his third cup that evening, Sara joined him. "Triple shot? You on a deadline or something?" he asked wryly, a small smile working its way onto his face.

"I could ask you the same question," came the reply, Sara matching his smile and stance as they waited for their drinks.

"You could."

Sara's smile widened. "Touché." Shifting from one foot to the other, she shrugged. "Eh, caffeine doesn't really have any long term effects with me anymore. Too many late nights, you know?"

"I do."

The two smiled in their silence for a moment, their coffee breaking the semi-awkward silence. Soon the detective and the reporter were seated at a table, one of those overtly artsy ones with the hodge-podged surfaces. Steaming cups before them, it was Lake who broke the silence first. "Look, I have nothing against reporters-"

"Good to hear."

Lake smiled a bit. "- but I'm kind of hesitant to talk to you."

"Because of Stabler? I thought you didn't like him."

"Hey, I never said that."

"Okay, then what?"

"I…" Lake shrugged, fingers drumming the surface of his cardboard cup. "What's his deal with you?"

Sara cleared her throat, glanced upwards, and shrugged. "Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions?"

Lake, too, shrugged, but remained silence. It was an interrogation technique, to remain silent until the suspect talked. And he hoped Sara would talk. For a moment it appeared his ruse had failed, when suddenly Sara's mouth opened.

"It's nothing huge, really. Guy's daughter got a DUI a few years back, right? And the charge disappeared, according to a source." Sara took a sip of her coffee. "Source was right. So I wrote the Captain, asking for a statement… felt obliged to let the public know what was going on." Lake didn't make a move, so she continued. "The captain refused to make a statement, so I asked Olivia. She was a bit nicer, but in the end it was the same; nothing. I decided I would write the article one way or another, but soon after the charge was brought to fruition. Bada-bing, bada-boom… I gotta guy who ain't so happy with me. 'Nuff said."

Lake frowned. "Oh," was all he could muster after a moment. "I-I guess that's not such a big deal-"

"I know, right? So can we move on?" she said, nodding, recorder appearing out of her bag.

"You know Olivia?" Lake asked, interest peaked.

Sara's finger paused on the play button. "What?"

"You called Cragen 'captain,' but you called Olivia by her first name."

Sara smiled a bit, though it was less of a friendly one. "You detectives. Never shut off, do you?"

Lake grinned. "Nope." Sip of coffee.

"Uh… sure, I know her. Yeah. Can we move on?" she asked dryly.

The sudden snippy manner of Sara's speech was surprising to Lake. Had he said something wrong? Lake's hands shifted from the cup to the tabletop. "I… was just wondering…"

"You know, I'm tired. We should do this later," Sara said, setting the recorder on the table to retrieve a business card from her bag. "Here. Call me to reschedule, yeah?"

Lake frowned, his detective senses tingling. As she rose, he rose with her, hand enclosing around the small piece of paper. "Er, yeah… look, if I said something…"

Sara looked up, shrugging. "I'm tired," she repeated. After a moment, she nodded. "Night, Detective." With that, Sara spun on her heel and was gone. Lake frowned, falling back to the seat. Hands closed around his coffee, and with a small sniff, he noticed that Sara had left her recorder.

That rescheduling had just been bumped up, it seemed.


	3. Ghosts Revealed

Next morning, Lake was sitting at his desk, the precinct bustling with activity as per usual. Sara Greene's tape recorder lay on his desk. He stared at it, as the reporter's business card made regular trips between Lake's calloused hands; he obviously hadn't called back the woman. Why? Something about the previous night was still bugging him. Why had she bolted when he asked about Olivia? Despite the fact that Sara was neither a perp or a vic, Lake still couldn't help but analyzing the situation as such. There was really only one thing he could do.

Lifting his head, he stowed the card in his pocket as he gazed across the room. "Hey, Olivia!" he shouted across the room, the woman sitting at her own desk a few yards away. She glanced up from what looked like an irrational amount of paper work, eyes finding the source of the call.

"Yeah?"

Lake paused, wondering exactly how to go about this. Nothing was wrong, really, but he was prying. Prying was never good… but, hell! That's what he did, wasn't it? Lake rose, took a few strides over to the female detective's desk, and stood with broad arms crossed. Olivia watched him, brows rising. "What's on your mind?"

Lake frowned. "I was just wondering…." he paused, smiled, and chuckled a bit, shrugging. "Man, this is kind of weird. I guess I'll just come out with it; do you know Sara Greene?"

Olivia's face registered surprise. "You mean the reporter?"

Lake nodded.

"Why do you ask?" she asked, setting down her pen atop the pile of papers on her desk, fully facing the male detective.

Lake rubbed his chin, shrugging again. "She, uh… came in last night asking for an interview. Found her with Elliot-"

Olivia nodded, wry smile coming to her face. "-ah. You want to know why he dislikes her?"

"No, actually… she told me about that," he said, dancing around the subject for some reason. Olivia could sense it.

"Okay…" she said slowly, "… and?"

"Do you know her personally? It's just that… I mentioned your name in our conversation and she got kind of antsy. Practically bolted." There: he said it. Lake watched, waiting for Olivia's response. Surprisingly, she sighed, clasping her hands over her legs.

"I, uh… yeah, I know her. Haven't talked to her in a few years… but yeah, I know her." She looked up at Lake to see if it was enough to please his curiosity, but from his silence she could tell he wasn't even close to being appeased. Olivia sighed again. "I- you should really ask her."

"I did. I told you, she bolted."

"I-"

"Olivia."

She frowned, pretty face scrunching up in obvious frustration. "Look, when I last saw her, she was doing well. She- She doesn't need any more questions."

Lake opened his mouth to ask another question when a light bulb went off in his head. His mouth remained open in a rather comical fashion, but the look on his face was all but funny. "She was… attacked?" he asked. Olivia leaned back in her seat, rubbing a hand over her face before nodding, speaking one word:

"Raped."

Made sense, than, that Sara didn't want to talk about Olivia… too close for comfort. But, wait… "What about Stabler? Why does he treat her like crap? I mean, I know he's never been one for manners, but…"

"He doesn't know." Olivia uncrossed her legs, leaning forward again. "He was, uh… on leave when she came in."

"Why doesn't someone tell him?"

Olivia's eyes opened wide, bittersweet smile coming to her face. "And have her be coddled for the rest of her life? She doesn't want it. Believe me, I asked her if she wanted me to talk to Elliot. She doesn't want it."

Lake sighed, rubbing a hand through his cropped black hair. Olivia raised a hand. "Look… I don't know how you want to go about this. But… just be careful. Don't go spreading this around. It…" she frowned again, "… it was pretty bad," Olivia finished quietly.

Lake nodded. "'Course. Uh… thanks, Olivia."

She returned the nod. "Just be careful…" she repeated.

Back at his desk, Lake fingered Sara's business card. Removing his cell from its holster, he typed in a number and lifted the thing to his ear.

"Sara? It's Lake. You busy?"


	4. Confrontation

The scene was similar to the night prior. Lake and Greene sat with their coffee, the world of caffeine addiction swirling around them. Neither seemed to really notice. It was Greene who broke the silence.

"Thanks for finding my recorder. Life blood, and all that…" she said, knocking the electronic against the table as she regarded it fondly.

"'Course," said Lake. It was hard to look at Greene now, Lake realized; she was no longer just a reporter, she was a victim. He struggled to hold her gaze without looking somewhat sorry, so he sufficed by staring into the dark depths of his coffee. Greene shifted a bit, a bit put off by his behavior.

"Um, we can do this some other time, Detective. You seem… tired."

"I am, actually."

Greene awaited a further response, and when none came, she nodded. "Right. Well, you have my number. Just- well- just give me a ring when-"

"I know."

The male's remark was met with a blank look, combined with mild confusion on the female's part. "Sorry?"

Lake cleared his throat, fingers completing a magnificent drum solo across the top of the table. "I… I know."

Greene's brow quirked. "That we've established, Detective. Though, being a reporter I find I enjoy detail. What do you know, exactly?"

"Olivia told me."

Silence fell over the couple, Greene's face slowly loosing its ruddy coloring. Jaw slackening, her arms came to cross over her chest before she blinked rapidly at Lake. "S-she did… what?" Disbelief laced ever syllable.

"I'm so sorry."

Anger seeped its way onto Greene's face. "Yeah, well, that's dandy. I'm glad you and Olivia had a chance to talk. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I really have to go." She stood unsteadily, chair pushed back with a scrape reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. Greene wasn't prepared for this… she couldn't deal with this all over again. Pushing her way past jittery customers, she exited the store onto the busy sidewalk with Lake close in tow.

Falling instep with the woman, Lake spoke. "I'm sorry… it just came out. I knew something was wrong last night, so-"

"-you what?" countered Greene angrily. "You used your spiffy deducing skills to find out about me?" She scoffed. "That's my job, bub."

Lake raised a hand, brows furrowing. "Look, it's not… it's not your fault…"

Coming to a complete stop, Greene rounded on Lake. The look in her eyes caused the detective to take a step backwards. "It's not my fault?! Peachy. Thanks. I definitely haven't heard that one before. Now I can go on living like nothing ever happened, right? Well guess what?" Greene brusquely prodded Lake in the chest, emphasizing each syllable as she spoke: "That. Is. Bullshit. Now get lost." And she was off down the sidewalk again.

Lake stared after her, hands shoved in his pockets. "So I guess the interview's out?" he called rhetorically. To his surprise, Greene stopped, turned, and approached him once more. Not wanting to push his luck, Lake remained silent.

Greene ground her jaw. "Since you seem to have the tact of a rabid dog, I'll spell this out for you. One: you are my job, and I intend to finish it. Two: I never allow my private life to interrupt said job. Three: the past is the past. And finally, we arrive at what?..." A pause.

Lake frowned. "Four?"

"Good, you're listening. Yes. Four: This stays between you, me, and Olivia. As much as I would love for you to blab this to those incompetent donut-munching cops at the precinct… Oh, wait. I wouldn't. I really, really wouldn't."

Lake sighed. It was obvious there was something unresolved in Greene. She was stubborn. Strong, even. But she was angry, extremely so, and Lake knew first hand that anger slowly ate away at one's self. What could he do, though? The woman was firm. He nodded. "Sure. Though I think you should really-"

"-don't care, Detective." Checking her watch, Greene nodded, seeming to slowly revert back to her old self. "I have a meeting with my editor in twenty minutes. Mind if I stop by your place of work to finish our interview?"

"I wasn't aware we started."

"Hah. The cop has wit. Anyways, I take that for a yes. See you at four?"

"Well-"

"-lovely. See you then!" And Greene was off down the street.

Lake frowned, even more disturbed then he was before. The woman was obviously not alright. But what could he do? Head down, he turned back in the direction of the precinct, really only one thing he could do.

He needed to know what happened.


End file.
